"If you all would look out of the windows now you can observe the greater Los Angeles, California metropolitan area. We thank you all for flying American Airlines."

Rory woke to the slight turbulence of the plane as it attempted to steady itself into a landing position. She hardly had the money to cover the three hundred dollar coach ticket to Los Angeles so she suffered through the snoring of an old smelly man to her right and what seems like a hateful married couple to her left. It was her first time flying and she already learned what the significance of a first class ticket meant. Her grandparents lived with certain conveniences that she found frivolous, however, she couldn't help but feel regret over not letting them pay for this trip. Perhaps a first class ticket would have lightened her mood and lifted her spirits for the upcoming interview.

The five hour flight from New York was beginning to feel like the most desperate and pathetic career move she had made but she didn't have time to ponder on how unfair her life had been lately. All that mattered now was that she was out of the eastern sea board and away from the people that wanted nothing but the worst for her. She was in L.A. seeking a job as a reporter in a prestigious newspaper. After her graduation from Yale she had some offers and decided to seek employment at the Advocate where she built up her portfolio and gained some positive recognition but she wanted more. Like any other grad she wasn't satisfied with the slim job opportunities on the market, they didn't match up with her goals and she was ready to be a real reporter. However, with no one in the east hiring a Gilmore, that became quite impossible. She needed this job in L.A. to help put her suspicions to rest.


Rory headed up to her hotel room before going straight to the publishing office. She managed to afford a room in the most broken down location in Los Angeles, but alas, it was also the cheapest. There were no portraits. The walls were stained yellow with the history of past indoor smokers. The carpet was a fuzzy and smelly retired pink. The view centered around the next door brick apartments and the bed creaked with every bodily encounter she had with it. It wasn't comforting to be in this situation but her luxurious days as a Gilmore were over years ago. She paid for everything now and this is what her money could buy.

She was tired and couldn't remember the last time she had a moment of utter relaxation and serenity. The last three years after graduation have been so fast and generally unlucky. She hadn't been on a date in three years and hadn't had sex in the same amount of time. Her last time being intimate with any man was Logan Huntzberger and at this point she grew to really despise that name.

Her interview was in the next hour so she patted down her chestnut hair into a sleek high pony and struggled into some black slacks for her interview. She was going to nail this one, after all it was on the other side of the country. No one knew her here.


"Rory Gilmore ?" Called a short man from human resources.

"That's me."

He eyed her up and down, apparently sizing up her feminine sensitivity on his radar or perhaps wondering what a pretty brunette would possibly have to write about. Without speaking another word he lured her into the most prominent office space on the floor with the least privacy, the walls were all windows. Stepping inside felt like being stuck in a stuffy glass house.

"Gilmore's here." Called out the short man before providing his speedy exit.

The man he was spoke to had his back to Rory. He was facing his magnificent view of the California hills and finishing up a phone call, Rory only stood there waiting for his attention.

"Well I really appreciate you letting me know and I'll take care of it...yes, thank you again sir."

Finally, he hung up the phone and turned to face her.

He was younger than most editors with a five o'clock shadow that was expected from most writers. His green eyes indicated that he took his time seriously and his eyebrows rose at the appearance of Rory.

"I'm Rory Gilmore, I'm here for the journalist position your company is trying to fill."

When he didn't speak she continued.

"I'm employed at the Advocate in New York and I've been there for three years now. My boss is Keygan and he actually referred me to this position. I have some copies of my work if it will interest you to read..." She began to look through her binder.

"That won't be necessary. The position has already been filled." He sat down in his chair, expecting her to leave now.

Rory stood there, frozen. This couldn't be happening again.

"You can see your way out, Ms. Gilmore."

Stunned but not wanting to be anywhere she isn't wanted she turned to leave.

However, her nerve got the better of her.

"Listen, I know that your an important figure in this newspaper so you probably hear this a lot of the times but... I love journalism. Check my passport if you don't believe me because it says that I came all the way from New York for this job. If that doesn't already show some kind of commitment for this field, then I don't know what does! This is my life. Its what I spent my entire childhood wanting, it's what studied in college, it's why I'm here. And I know that whoever you hired will be perfect for the job but wouldn't you like to examine my writing anyways? Maybe there's a interning position available that I can temporarily have until a new full time position opens. I mean... it can't be over this was my last shot...!"

"Ms. Gilmore!" He shouted as to interrupt her rant.

Many people from outside the glass office where staring now. Apparently the fancy office couldn't afford sound proof windows. Shame.

Head honcho slumped back in his leather chair and admitted, "I don't have time to sit here and stroke your ego so I'll make this quick. You are the best I've seen and I know this because I've had your writings messengered to me from your boss. Him and I go back. He highly recommended me to you and the truth is, the position hasn't been filed but I can't have you in it."

Sensing the confusion dramatically taking over her expression he continued.

"I don't know if you remember your interning years at the New York Times several years back but we made a call. They refused to give an references and some people I came in contact with even refused to admit that you were there. Then just now I got a call from Mitchum Huntzberger himself. I don't know if you realized this but the Huntzberger Publishing Corp. just bought several media companies in California, including this one. What that man says is law and he says you are the biggest disappointment he's ever had working under him."

Rory was still. She studied the patterns on the wooden floor and tired not to hit something. She had her suspicions that she was being black listed by someone important but she didn't even want to bring herself to think of who or why. She always knew her past would revive itself at the most inappropriate time. Head honcho sensed her about to erupt and got up from his chair to approach her.

He solemnly placed a hand on her shoulder, "I don't know what you did to piss him off but he is a very important person. I'm sorry to say this but maybe it's best if you pursue a career in something he can't control. Best of luck to you Rory Gilmore."

She finally looked up from the floor gaze but refused to look into the sympathetic eyes of a stranger that was himself too much of a wimp to offer a good candidate a job they deserved.

"Well, this is really a loss because I would have rocked this newspaper!" And with all the pride of a Gilmore she walked out of that office head held high.


Don't forget to follow your dreams was probably a motto invented by some drunk California hippie who's only dream was to drink beer and procreate. Rory came to realize that only rich visionaries like Walt Disney have time to plan and seek out real dreams. It was now that she understood when people used words such as "working to get by". Those words were always used by people that accepted that their dreams were foolish and understood that there's an age when you have to push aside what you wanted and just settle. Sometimes no amount of desire or hard labor will get you were you were you want to be because sometimes fate has a huge say-so in your life.

So Rory sat in bar waiting for some inspiration to take her to a new direction or fate to show her once again where she didn't belong. It was half past twelve in the morning and she considered calling her mother and letting her in on how horrible this day had been and what Mitchum Huntzberger had been up to but she knew that would provoke the Logan talk and at this point in time that was unacceptable. She didn't want to imagine how much better he must be doing. It must really be a good thing to have Mitchum Huntzberger with you instead of against you, to have him help build you up with monetary funds and name recognition. Everything always came easy to Logan and she envied that. To think that that at that very moment he could be chatting it up with his usual attractive blondes and getting someone else truly talented to do his work for him was ridiculous.

She always wondered what her life would have been like had she said yes to Logan. Would she be happier? Would they still be together three years later? Would he be faithful? Would being a trophy wife have been as bad as she thought? The truth was, she wasn't doing any better now and the past three years had been hell with no one willing to give her a shot in the major leagues of reporting. How ironic, she had been afraid that choosing Logan would surely end her career before it started but if only he could see her now. All cheap, broke, and pathetic.

She had to restraint herself from calling him after the disastrous job interview. She knew his cell phone number by memory. A couple years ago she tried to memorize a couple pages of a public phone book so that she wouldn't have his particular number stuck in her mind but she couldn't help it and still knew his by heart. But what would she tell him? A casual hello and a menacing death threat for ending her career?

This is why she chose to take a cap to Moncyny. It was an adult club in the trendy downtown area of Los Angeles, it was featured in the tour guide pamphlet she read on the plane ride. Apparently it was "the" place to be, with it's overly priced drinks and massive space. There was a glow in the dark pool, a view of all the city lights and a free bar for women over 21. Rory was sold. Tonight would be dedicated to drinking her heart out until she decided if she should seek out mediocre employment in a town far from the Huntzberger influence, or if she should just go back to Hartford and only hope to marry well. Her mother hadn't raised her for the latter so she'd have to do the harder "make it on your own" thing but she had no fight left in her.

"You don't belong here."

The guy across from her broke her silent drinking binge. She struggled to turn and look in his direction.

"Excuse me?"

"You look too kind and beautiful to be in L.A. most of the girls that come here dye there hair blonde and expect a movie deal after a couple years. I'm Jason by the way." He was a good-looking man in his early twenties. Definitely younger than her. Definitely wanting to get her in bed. This was a first.

"Sorry to disappoint." She said.

"Let me guess, your here because you just had the longest day and you broke up with your boyfriend."

"Actually, no and I don't make it a habit to let strangers in on my day." She looked away wondering if he'd take the hint.

"I get it, some asshole ruined your plans and now your in a bar with a very distinct buzz-off look on your face and a drink that will help you forget everything until the morning but just for the record, we are not all the same."

She really stared at him for the first time and noticed how his brown eyes had a type of excitement in them, she hadn't seen anything like that in a while.

"Are you writer?" She asked.

He shook his head quickly.

"Do you work in any newspapers?" She asked again.

"Honey, I don't even read the news."

"Wanna buy me a drink?" She inquired, smiling for the first time all day.

"You got it."

And while Jason began to order everything that resembled alcohol in the bar, surely to get her drunk before two in the morning, Rory excused herself and went to the ladies room to freshen herself up. She was partially excited but mostly nervous. Tonight would be her first night with a man in three years. Would it suck? She couldn't bring herself to remember what it felt like her very last time. It's almost like the memory had locked itself up in the far reaches of her brain and refused to be unlocked. Suddenly, she began to worry about her choice in underwear and the state of her legs. Perhaps she should have shaved above the knee this time.

In the ladies room she grabbed onto the sink, contemplating her appearance while some skinny hipster vomited her latest meal. She had the urge to violently vomit herself due to all her nerves. She was really going to do this. Tonight would be the night for something crazy but then there was the humiliating reflection in the mirror. She had really let herself go the past three years. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, she appeared skinny and grumpy and pale, homey even. Before she could even contemplate what Jason would think of her dry hair three stunning women stumbled in the bathroom.

"That's her!" The tannest one whispered venomously under her breath.

"Shush!" Scolded the one wearing a red dress.

Rory had to assume that they were talking about her, the skinny vomiting girl had already left. They stepped behind her in an awkward silence, obviously disapproving of her plain black slacks – an inappropriate outfit for this type of nightclub. One of them was clearly drunk and even glared at her through the mirror. Rory took this as her cue to leave and tightened her pony tail before heading out. The last thing she heard was, "Could you believe he wants her?"

Rory began to walk back to the bar area a little worst for wear and that's when she noticed that Jason was gone. This was just her luck.

The bartender noticed this and poured her an extra shot of tequila for an extra crappy day.

Two hours later...

"Maybe you've had enough." Scolded the bartender.

The crowd of people had changed, the music was more explosive and rowdy, people were everywhere despite the early morning hour and Rory Gilmore was far from done drinking.

"You know, I don't really like you and I'm sick of men who push me around and think that I should be punished because I have a vagina! I went to Yale!"

The man, taken aback by her drunken yelling only handed her more tequila.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not scary or damaged like most people at this bar. I had plans! And now I'm just a girl that wasted thousands of dollars and years of my time on a plan that didn't work out. So whatever you may think of me, shove it and hand over the tequila bottle."

The nervous bartender slid over the bottle.

"Not to be rude miss but sometimes things just don't happen the way you want them to. Life's got a wicked sense of humor." He said while wiping down the table.

"What's your name?" Asked Rory.

"Steve."

She started laughing so uncontrollably that it looked like she couldn't breathe for a couple seconds. Steve leaned in wanting her to be ok and knowing that he would get blamed if anything happened to her tonight.

"Everything would have been so different if I was okay with only being a hot piece of ass," she choked out between laughter, "screw women with brains! I should have married him and been a wife instead," she slid off her seat and started climbing on the bar table much to the disbelief of the bartender who only stared.

"But hey, it's not too late." She said while facing the people in the club that were now beginning to stare at her dancing figure on the slippery table. The volume of the music was then intensified so that Rory couldn't hear the yelps of the bartender as he pleaded her to get off the table carefully. The DJ only assumed the she was a young twenty-something year old party goer that wanted to bring things to the next level and so the lights began to flicker while she swayed to the rhythm.

Women that were previously watching decided to join her on the tables to make their men ogle them and not her.

Rory decided to ditch layers of her clothing and she completely lost herself in the music, so much so that she hadn't cared when strange men began to grope the parts of her body that they could reach. She decided to open her eyes and take in the euphoric sight before her and that's when she looked right into a pair of disturbed brown eyes.

She froze.

"Huntzberger let it go!"

The two figures that had been holding onto both sides of the blonde man lost their grip as he shook himself out and made a beeline to Rory.

She couldn't believe that L.A. was this small and she also couldn't figure out how to get her uncoordinated body off of the table. It couldn't possibly be him. She was definitely dreaming this entire event.

He shouted something that she couldn't hear over the music and stuck his hand out.

Rory reached out but instead of grabbing onto his hand she intended to touch his face. Her vision was blurred and the constant flickering lights weren't helping her current state. She vaguely saw a pair of anxious brown eyes and a haze of dirty blonde hair but she still stuck with her dream theory. It couldn't be...

The last thing she was able to shriek over the music was, "I think I'll have a taco now."

Then everything went black.